Break in the sun
Until the sun breaks down,
Until the sun breaks down,
There are a million things she knows and a million others she does not. And none, none of them, prepared her for the way her heart turns almost fragile when it stumbles and learns the song of his. She did not know, that she could devour something, become fat with something, without first carving it from its cage of flesh, and bone, and blood.
Thana is not brave enough, not fearless enough, to ask him what it's like to be a mortal and to feel time like the moon feels days. There is no world, no knowing, that she would suffer to hear the tomes of death fall from his lips instead of life. Once she had asked a man for poetry, and gotten only hunger and light in return. And it had made her empty as a hollow monster and eager to spill each bit of poetry and light from his form if only to fill her own with something other than black, and rot, and winter.
From Ipomoea she wants none of it and yet all of it (all of those things that are not poetry but endings and not light but limitless). From him she wants everything. Every drop of his voice. Every beat of his heart. Every echo of his hoof steps.
There are three hearts beating in her form for him, for them, for all the things Thana is not courageous enough to ask. The question, what is it like to be mortal?, dies against the hardness of her teeth. She does not try to get it back, not when his heart sings in notes that her own will never learn how to make.
No one has ever asked her what she would be if not death, or a monster, or a thing violent and made. Or is it made to be violent?
Could be be anything but?
She inhales him because it is not the air that fills her immortal, made lungs to something fuller than wings with the air billowing them onward. “I would want to be anything that is not so endlessly wanting.” Thana whispers the words in a way that sounds like a snarl.
And then she lays her teeth against his neck.
<3 | @Ipomoea
"Speaking."
"Speaking."
